I picture God,
if It exists, as this:
a prison warden from
the ancient realm of Ethiopia,
with such severe myopia he never knew
exactly who was who. "It" (de-gendered
single pronoun, offered humbly to suggest
a stand-in neutral moniker for “God")
would rid Itself of clothes each day, especially
ensuring It had left Its left foot verily unshod.
Then It would stick Its left leg out – agleamfrom thigh to calf to shin to knee to sole –
presenting It as an occasion to receive
the grateful homage from some random
soul’s warm lips upon the farthest lowest
reach of It: his left foot’s five sweet tips.
It would snap Its fingers
at whatever Soul was near
to bend down then to kiss them.
Soul invariably shuddered: “Kiss them?”
“Kiss them!” – It would regally repeat,
directing Soul's nose down incontrovertibly
to where It ended: ”Those!”
Soul would kneel to kiss Its toes.
So that’s what God is, I suppose.